A Song...by The Pinkone

The Pinkone is really into singing lately. She has written a number of lovely little dittys.

"Matt Can't Come to my Birthday Party because he Farted on my Stuff",

"Dan Stinks but I Want to Marry Him Anyway",

"Sometimes, Anytime, You like to do what you want to do anytime that you want to do it", and

"Daddy is Mean-I like Mommy Best"

to name a few recent hits. Last night, she belted out a particularly amusing little number I thought I might share.

I Want to Go Out-by Lily age 4-sung in the manor of an epic power ballad

I want to go ooooooooooout

anywhere, any time i want to go oooooooout

I want to make my parents happy wif me

and go oooooooooooooout

I don't need a doll house, or a kitchen set, or a picture or my books

I just want to go ooooooooooout

Like Idgie, who's a doooooooooooog and Meena, who's a caaaaaaaaaaat

 I want to go ooooooooooooooout

(higher now)

I can't sleeeeeeeeep, I'm not tired, I want to gooooooo ooooooooooooooout

and make my mom come wif me........

(lower and slower)

I.....want.....to go.......OOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTT!

Brings a tear to your eye doesn't it folks? You also have to imagine that she is throwing her head back, closing her eyes and belting this song as loud as her little voice can. She has all the soul of Dinah Washington my daughter. And don't worry, we're taking her out today.

[caption id="attachment_528" align="aligncenter" width="228" caption="dinah washington"][/caption]

Praise Be to the friends of Mommies!

As a woman who has always considered herself a “guys girl", or, someone who has traditionally surrounded herself with the male of the species, I have recently come to appreciate the importance of my female friends. Particularly since I have had children, the link to my mommy, and non-mommy girl friends has become stronger and more valuable than any parenting book, blog, or PBS special could ever be.

Don’t get me wrong, my male friends are great, they make me laugh, force me to take my life less seriously and contribute an over all sense of simplicity to my life, but you just can’t talk about leaky breasts with your male friends, no matter how much I tried right after the little person came along, they would always change the subject and squirm uncomfortably for some reason.

There were a good two years through my pregnancy and Lily’s birth where my female friends were and I were either incommunicado or just hadn’t met yet and it was one of the more lonely times in my life. I would walk with her in the front pouch and talk to her like I would one of my long lost girl friends. "What do you think baby? do you think daddy and i aren't having sex because we've grown apart? or is it just the stress of having a newborn?" or "I don't know baby, are you sure my ass doesn't look fat in these jeans?" She would stare at me, occasionally belch, but rarely contribute to the conversation, and I would eventually get tired of hearing my own voice and go back to doing the dishes or watching tv in silence.

Then, along came my Mommy friends, Lana, Cari, Jainel, and Rachel. It was like a whole new world of conversation opened up to me, I could talk about poop, and chapped nipples, and sexual dry spells, and complain about my husband, and laugh about my saddle bags that had recently developed. For all the talking and girls nights and foofy party drinks, i think the best thing about my lady friends is the fact that they remind me how not alone I am.

Before I had them i would stare at my kid and wonder "is that normal? or am I doing this right?" and I wouldn't have anyone to confirm or deny my suspicions that's the child was inches from death due to my negligence. Without mommy friends we are blind dumb and deaf in this uncharted water of parenthood and the knowledge that a seasoned, and non-judgmental mommy friends can bring to the table is so invaluable that i swear these women saved my life, and probably Lily's on many occasions.

For this reason I propose some sort of big sister program for new moms, in your 8th month someone will come to your home and assess your projected parenting plan (you know, the one you throw out the window after like 2 months?) they will assess your "mommy friend resources" and if you do not have an adequate supply of mommy friends, you will be placed by our team of experts into a mutually beneficial partnership until your child goes to college. This pairing program allows the new mom to benefit from the experience of the more seasoned mom, and allows the more seasoned mother to get her baby fix out of the way so she doesn't mistakenly have another child when really, she was done with the last one. See? Mutually beneficial!

From navigating breastfeeding to knowing what to do for potty training and tantrums I have tried the alternate venues, Dr. Spock and even my mother have NOTHING on Cari and Lana, two seasoned mommy veterans with kids that have lived to tell the tale of their first forays on to team mom.  They remind me that things get easier, that sometimes, adults are just assholes and your kid really isn't so bad, and get me laughing when I think things will never be funny again.

With Jainel I have the added bonus of a friend with a kid only 11 months older than my own, and a boy, so that puts at just right around the same developmental phase. We could lie them side by side on the blanket, Lily looking so small and Xavier this mammoth of a nearly one year old, already smiling and trying to crawl and compare notes on our rookie season as moms. Now, at ages 4 and 5 respectivly, Lily and Xavier are great friends, though the "boys are yucky" thing is starting to get in the way, and will even start school at the same time, we can hold each other and cry as we wave goodbye to our grown up kindergartners in a mere 12 month blink of an eye, ready to start the next phase of mommyhood together.

Now I have my Rachel, a friend from "BC" as my parents used to say (Before Children) and her very little man, teetering on the edge of 1 himself, and it is my turn to be a seasoned veteran to a rookie just pulled up from the minor leagues (college). I can tell her its okay to be bored sometimes and its normal to be exhausted, and I too spent an entire day just staring at my baby and trying to memorize every inch of her amazingly tiny body when she first came home. I can re-tell my birth story, and she can remind me how much it SUCKED to be pregnant every time I am wistful for the days of swollen ankles and heartburn. And she can confide in me how scared she is, and I reply that I still am, and we know that together, along with our other mommy friends, we can make it through.

It is because of these women, and to an equal degree my non-mommy friends, the ones that braved my baby shower and cooed over the new screeching bundle, while shuddering as I explained (in FAR more detail than necessary) EXACTLY what happens to your vagina after childbirth, but still called me to go out for drinks to remind me that I am Amy first, and mommy second, that I am still keeping it together.

For the rest of you mommies out there, and those that will be one day, cherish the mommy friends you have, their wisdom and experience is not something "What to Expect" will contain, and if you don't have any, join a group, get some numbers, e-mail me (ductapequeen@hotmail.com) because I'm telling you, these women will be your life line, you will come to love them like sisters, I know I do.

I'm Raising a Jerk

Let me preface this entry by stating that I undeniably, 100% love my kid, no question about it, that said, I don't know how much I actually like her sometimes.

Trust me, I am VERY aware that this is NOT something you are supposed to say, if the mommy thought police get  a hold of this blog I will probably be black listed from the PTA before she's even in school and forced to turn in my fanny pack, (no, I don't actually own a fanny pack)

What I'm trying to say is, even though I totally love my kid, I am so not into her/parenting sometimes. She is incredibly bossy and demanding, a trait i was able to overlook when she was unable to speak and just flailed her arms and babbled at me adorably. But now that she has mastered the art of demanding cookies, and requiring them immediately, coupled with an almost diva like ability to whine, fall on the floor and stomp, I am just down right sick of hearing it.

She interrupts, not just me, but others, phone calls, doctors, animals, she's and equal opportunity annoyer, yesterday she woke me up from a dead sleep to ask if it was dark outside, we were in a car, it was clearly not dark.

She is super needy, requiring my undivided attention while she explains for the 100th time the rule for the made up game, "Kitty, Witch, Princess and Queen" a game in which I always end up being the kitty, capturing her, and putting her in the microwave. The princess always escapes, and the kitty always dies, did I mention she cheats too?

My kid pees her pants, screams and babbles incessantly, and is constantly dirty, if she were 20 years older, she'd be in a home or a corner in Seattle wearing a tin foil hat.

As it is, she is four and despite all evidence to the contrary, reasonably sane. I can't help but wonder why mom's put up with this nonsense?

I would never allow a co-worker, or even a close friend to hit me and tell me that they would prefer to live with their auntie because I won't get out of the bathroom this instant and make them some chocolate milk.

If I fell to the floor saying my legs hurt too bad to do my spreadsheets, my boss would either fire me, or commit me.

But for a four year old, we make concessions, a gentle reminder that patience is a virtue, a not so subtle bribe that if you let mommy pee in peace, she will put marshmallows in your cocoa, or when all else fails, a time out, the most major of all pre-school punishment options, sometimes, I would KILL for a time out. So what about next time? Another tantrum? Perhaps a return to the days of biting? I can't help but wonder, am I raising a jerk?

I am aware that adult punishments are not appropriate for a four year old and that screaming "just shut the hell up and get your own damn cocoa!" would probably damage her budding psyche, but all the love and gentle reminders and counting to three  cannot erase that stink of dislike I feel when she tells me that SHE is the boss of her shoes and if she WANTS to wear them on the wrong feet, she will!

I find myself looking back at her and quickly losing my grip, reverting back to my days of preschool terror. I have what some would call an "out of body experience", watching my adult mouth, generally so composed and level headed, actually form the words "NUH-UH!"

As I stamp my very grown up feet, clad in sensible shoes, and she stamps her, clad in tiny pink and white-flowered sneakers, we stare each other down.  I see us, both red faced, locked in a battle of wills, she determined to convince me, me, determined to not give in. Three feet tall or not, she could take down Goliath with her angry face.

Most of the time, I cave, and it makes me dislike myself as much as I dislike her at the moment. I am encouraging the tiny jerk inside her, feeding it, making it stronger than the sweet baby I still see somewhere behind the overpowering need for string cheese.

I like to tell myself that I am picking my battles, and in the long run, she'll be better adjusted if I only fight her on the important stuff, the interrupting will go away with time, the tantrums are only a phase, this string cheese, right now, will solve every problem and the demon will lose possession of my baby and all will be right with the world.

Right?

Or maybe she'll be the bitch cutting me off in traffic and dominating the sales meetings while she berates her husband for buying the wrong diamond. I guess a little bitch can't hurt a woman in today's world, lets just hope she knows when to pick her battles too.